Not a Drill [Prose]

Hands slip through elastic cuffs
Fingers tie crepe strings behind my neck
Remove my wear-everywhere mask just long enough to exchange it for a respirator
Breathe in and out
In and out
In and out again
So it seals my face
Filtering my air
Protecting my lung, my life

Pull the streaked face shield from its crinkled paper bag
With my name scrawled in sharpie
Add another layer
Another screen
Another lens

Fingers wiggle into blue non-latex
A second skin
The final part unexposed
Breathe in and out
Slide the door open
Slip in

This ritual
Written into regulation
Performed time and time
And time again
Became a rosary
On the threshold of the unknown
Familiarity in liminality....